Any interference would blow her chance at rescuing her half-sister.
She’d trusted Coop to a point. He’d been an elite operative after all, but Coop would not approve of her being here. She understood. Without rules, there would be chaos in his line of work.
Phoebe didn’t have time for someone to bless this. Coop’s team sure as hell wouldn’t bless her take-no-prisoners plan.
Hallene’s fingers curled into a tight fist with the urge to make the kidnapper pay. She hadn’t decided the exact definition of making the Collector pay yet, but it had to be more than sticking him in a jail cell where he’d find a way to slither out.
Monsters could not be rehabilitated.
She’d reached forty-five steps.
Her blood pressure jumped. Where was the end of this tunnel?
She clicked the light in her ring to the lowest setting, a bare glow that should not give away her position by leaking through an opening to the mansion. She just hoped some entry point still existed. With her eyes adjusting to the ambient light, she took one step then another, always reaching forward.
Her fingers bumped something solid hanging away from the wall. Lifting her ring, she had a tiny thrill at finding an old wooden ladder. This was where things got dicey.
Her heart thudded.
Would she have a welcoming party?
Sweat drizzled down her face and neck even in the cool temperature down here.
How many times had Coop said, “In the world of special operations, hesitation gets you killed.”
So would a bad decision, but sometimes that was the only option.
Climbing carefully and praying the wood was not rotted, she made it up six steps, constantly feeling above her head. Her fingers hit a solid surface. She moved her hand over the texture and found parallel lines in the rough surface.
Wood planks.
She pushed. Nothing moved.
Hooking her leg over a rung, she used both hands to push up.
She grunted from straining until the covering began to give. Dirt rained down on her face. She closed her eyes and spit out debris, pausing to listen. No light bled through from above. Demanding more from her arm muscles, she gritted her teeth and shoved harder. The trapdoor began lifting.
Her vision blurred from perspiration stinging her eyes.She kept going until she had the wooden covering a foot high and paused to swing her light around quickly to search the opening.
No one stood there pointing a weapon at her.
It took some maneuvering, but she managed to ease the heavy covering over to one side before hoisting herself through the hole.
She sat there breathing in and out as quietly as she could until she’d regained her energy and pulled her legs up, turning to kneel. That gave her leverage to lower the cover. It fit perfectly back into the floor, but with a snick of sound.
Heart thumping, she waited.
No voices. No footsteps came her way.
Sweeping her light over the cover, she could see where thick dust had been undisturbed for many years prior to her opening the hatch. She had just enough room to turn around in the space without hitting a wall.
Where was the way out? She ran her hands everywhere until she touched a thick piece of wood that had been slid through two wooden loops. Yes!
She removed the heavy board that felt hand-hewn and tugged on a loop, inching the door inward. It squeaked. She held her breath. Chills ran up her arms.
No one attacked her. No bullets flew by.
Only dark met her on the other side.
